


Reconstruction

by Oceanbourne



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/F, fefemslashweek2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7926592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oceanbourne/pseuds/Oceanbourne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they fell before her and gave their lives to clear her path, they left her orphaned - without a family. Cordelia is hoping to rebuild that void. Written for femslashweek on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reconstruction

Her first escapades into the heights of criss-crossing branches and tangled leaves, somewhere lost in the altitude of treetops, come from gloomy desperation and a need to deposit herself in the much more welcoming syntax of a world ensconced in ink-laden pages.

Nowadays Cordelia has traded her morose sentiments for satisfaction not so demanding, but her inner explorer hasn’t left her and she eagerly props herself in an alcove between two accommodating branches and seeks the bookmark of lavender ribbon which would bring her back to her latest sojourn into the literary world.

She had received the book on a loan from Sumia. The bookish ones of the Shepherds evaluated her personal library as “exceedingly practical, too concerned with worldly matters, a lot of emphasis on sorting.” That’s how Robin had described it - others didn’t have quite the objective perspective on it, and she didn’t quite understand the contents of Miriel’s  _ opinion _ .

No need for embellishment: her tastes, in the public eye, are  _ boring _ . Cordelia always makes sure that if someone caught her nose tucked between pages of a book, they would find her perusing a work of non-fiction, preferably contemporary, usually about current affairs or - since joining the army - a discourse on military strategem. It doesn’t surprise anyone, especially taking into account her overachieving tendencies, that she’d continue the pursuit of enlightenment in all walks of life even during the strenuous schedule of a military campaign. Some regarded it as foolish. Others cast it off as disingenuous.

Such approximations would not be inaccurate, and Cordelia would be the first to admit her duplicity. Though it came for a different reason than trying to fabricate a proper personality from the horribly technical language of books. The various works of non-fiction only represent the tip of the iceberg. In truth, her literary expanse encompasses all sorts of genres, from historical narratives, to modern accounts of detectives tracking down criminals, romance novels, and of course, fantastic collections such as the story she holds in her hands.

But may Naga have mercy on her soul should anyone find her eyes devouring the pages of the chronicles of Vaniel the adventurer like she does now. With every foray into the fascinating existence of the fantasy world, the closer Cordelia comes to letting the fragile facade of her fictitious ensemble fall. Though she doesn’t exactly have to worry about outsiders peering in on her adventures. Her occupation as a pegasus knight allows her access to out-of-the-way locations such as this. No one who knows her well enough could possibly intrude on her.

Cordelia is not so naive to believe exceptions don’t exist to this rule, but she comes well prepared to receive the only rule-breaker she’s encountered. Upon the rustling of branches that indicates an arrival to the oak tree, she  _ gladly _ welcomes the intrusion, turning her head to verify their identity before smiling and going back to finish a particularly gripping paragraph.

“I’d knew I’d find you up here,” Sumia remarks, pulling herself up the wooden limb and pushing up with her feet to join the redhead on the thick branch. “I expected you to hang around camp for a little while, though. Helping out like you always do.”

Cordelia carefully replaces the bookmark before shutting the novel, placing it on a cross-legged lap before scooting over a little to make her companion’s position more comfortable. Sumia eagerly accepts the extra room, their shoulders put together due to the narrowness of their precarious perch, but it doesn’t bother Cordelia. She would appreciate a little more room to really get comfortable, but as of recent days she finds herself emotionally drained, and the gentle existence next to her is comfort enough.

“It was a quieter day for me, so I thought I’d put it to good use.” She holds up the novel for Sumia to see. “I’ve been putting this off for too long! Two weeks and I’ve barely made it halfway.”

“Oh, Cordelia, I’m no library!” She playfully smacks Cordelia’s bare knee, but lingers her hand on it afterwards. “There’s never any rush. There’s plenty where that came from. Oh, but does that mean you reached the part where they come out of the elderwood forest? One of my favorite passages -”

“Thank you, dear,” comes the gentle interruption.

Sumia’s eyes snap from a brief vacancy, face in contemplation before tilting her head. “Uh… you’re welcome? If you mean the book, I’m sure you thanked me plenty. Every time I catch you reading it you bring it up.”

“Not for that.” A sigh, like the beginning of a spring downpour, and her partner can sense the change in emotional climate, turning towards Cordelia with raised eyebrows. “What is it?”

Cordelia musters a smile again, weary, but definitely genuine. “For always knowing which tree to look. For regaling me with stories of awe and wonder. For sharing with me tales like these that might help us forget how trying of a world this is. For everything.”

Sumia remains silent. Cordelia has her gaze set on a set of leaves attached to an overhanging branch, and merely responds with the sound of her breath mixed with the whistling of the wind. The newer pegasus knight is the more talkative of the two by far, but she knows when to hold her silence in sensitive seconds.

“I was just speaking with the new arrivals, you know, the Valmese that Virion brought with him. I didn’t know much about the ways of wyvern knights, besides the ones in Plegia.” Her lips purse, remembering how different a beast the wyvern seemed from her pegasus. But that woman, Cherche, seemed to have a bond as strong as the ones the Yllisean pegasus knights had with their own mounts. “And Cherche spoke of how they were organized, that the wyvern knights were closer with each other than the rest of the army. It just reminded me… of my sisters. I could hear their voices in the way they addressed each other. Even if most of the dialogue with me were taunts and jeers at my ambition. It would have been nice to hear them again.”

And Cordelia finds a head cradled in the crook of her shoulders, rather than Sumia reaching over to embrace her. Naturally she finds her arms taking charge to claim the other pegasus knight for her own, taking responsibility for her like Cordelia does for anything she even remotely takes interest in. Like the novels she keeps hidden in the boughs of trees, she doesn’t display her compassion very openly. All sorts of altruism she offers comes off as fundamental goodness - behavior more like a textbook definition than practical real-world examples. But in their private life Cordelia can find the freedom for expression, an unabashed tenderness to pour into her partner and an honesty she can convey without having to measure up to any of the standards to which she so subjects herself.

“Your family,” Sumia says, adjusting her position upon Cordelia’s shoulder before turning and catching Cordelia’s eye. Where just a few minutes before they displayed playfulness, almost a childish innocence, Cordelia notices how they have absorbed her sorrow. But instead of reflecting it back at her, that prismatic glow reveals something different than the omens she might find in a crystal ball. A crystalline light gradually overtaking the dark. Perseverance and triumph. A hope that rises like nature blooming again in spring. “You don’t have to be the last one.”

“What do you mean?” Cordelia can feel Sumia’s heart beating against hers.

“I’m with you now, you know? I mean, not a royal guard, of course. Not one who made vows to lord and country. But we can make new ones.Just because you’ve lost your spear-sisters… doesn’t mean you’ve lost all of your family.”

If not for the elevation of their perch, Cordelia would want to pull Sumia into her lap, to hold onto her with the fervor that a dangling prisoner clings onto the rope of life. But with their limited space, she can only press so close, reaching out to stroke a cheek with trembling fingers.

“I want to rebuild what you have lost, Cordelia.”

It’s not that the Plegians have razed her foundations to a point where she can’t recover them. But for a long while, she feared the outcome of what would happen should she start over again. It wouldn’t appear anything like the orderly way of life that she lived before the war. Underneath all those practical advice and self-help books, Cordelia had believed she could reorder her life and compensate for the missing pieces just by taking in that knowledge. Letting dead parchment fill in the holes that left her existence hollow. If she couldn’t bring them back, she could at least live vicariously with these lines and their memories. But the only thing that would rise from that was a mismatched amalgamation of half-completed ideas. 

Until now, she hasn’t found a satisfactory medium through which to give the breath of life to a pitiful existence. She hasn’t found a rebirth so hopeful as the promise that comes from Sumia’s lips.

A hand reaches out, unsure of its desire. Another meets it, giving it its answer.

“Then let’s start again together.”


End file.
